


Firebreath

by GreenPhoenix



Series: Fire within [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix/pseuds/GreenPhoenix
Summary: Joanna is beautiful and free and she captures a sorcerer's attention. He then captures her.





	Firebreath

 

She was beautiful in the sunlight. Her hair red-rained down her back, her eyes green-flashed. Her boyish figure gracefully hard without a hint of softness. Fierce was her walk, her sandals and black dress not so. She was Joanna, witch and dancer. She lived in apparent freedom,  
unbound by possession and possessions. Her friends called her theirs and yet she was not.  
He, then watched her while hiding in the shade. He felt desire stir and knew he had to have her or die.  
*

Ah, what a city Belvedere was. Jewel in the desert, flower in the sun. Town of liars, spies and outlaws. Belvedere was a kingdom. This kingdom was ruled with an iron hand in an iron glove by Elzim the Immortal. Immortal he was not, but his vanity had to be flattered. Those who did not, died. Though Elzim was old, bald and fat they called him young, hair-rich and slim. Elzim was king and so he was right. They all flattered him. All but one.  
*  
He was Gyrich the sorcerer. He could see things hidden and hide things seen. He could tell truth from lies. He never lied to Elzim though he knew that it could cost him his life. He could only tell the truth. He was tall of length, smelled of spice and had hard, bright eyes. He had been raised by a hard hand and lived under threat. He had come to Belvedere to seek his fortune and he found it. He had saved Elzim from the hands of an assassin. Since then Elzim had kept him close. Every born liar, such as Elzim needs one person who can tell the truth no matter what.  
* 

Now, Gyrich lived a life of leisure. He had all he could wish for and yet he was bored. He drank Elzim’s fine wines, but still his throat was dry. He ate the finest food, but he was hungry. He had the love of the most beautiful woman in Belvedere, yet he was not happy. He was bored with Roxana who had been given to him by Elzim. She was the most skilful courtesan in town. She had all the men singing her praises through the nights. Roxana, lovely, intelligent, fair of skin and heart bored him. At first he had enjoyed her company, now he avoided it. So one day he went walking.  
*

It was then he saw her. Joanna and fell, or so he thought, madly in love and hate with her. He hated her because he knew she could not be his. Every step she took spoke calmly, declaring her free. And he loved her because she was destined to be free.  
*

Joanna, not knowing she had been spied upon went about her business as usual. She told fortunes to those who wanted them told she talked to those who needed a friend and she danced to be free.

* 

So one evening when the air was clear she walked to the nearby tavern. She wore black silk.  
She said hello to some friends. Joanna smelt some jasmine on the air, its scent reassured her.  
She entered the tavern where people danced or drunk or played some new game. She had come to see her lover, but he was not there. So she sat down and watched the others. The previous night when she was looking into her own future she had not seen him in the cards. Now she knew why. Sadness crept in and covered her like the night, close and soft.  
Across the floor two young lovers danced. She would cry but she did not. It was the curse of her family. None of the women could cry so instead they made the sky burst open and cry for them. But her mood prevented such extravagant gestures. She merely laughed. Happiness is sorrow reversed as love is hate backwards. So she thought and drank some bitter ale. 

*

The tavern was small but with room enough for lovers and gamblers,and for the truthful ones. A man in white was watching Joanna. She was even lovelier when she was sad he thought. Her face was more tranquil and her eyes less blazing. The fire of her hair burned slower. He wanted to run his fingers through it, caress her face, make her laugh. Make her his whatever the cost.  
She rose suddenly from the table. Her ale spilled on the dirty floor. A band was playing a slow swirling tune. They were travellers so much was apparent. Dirty-faced, rotted-teethed and grim.  
Joanna swirled with their song and the song swirled with her. Her sadness burned within her dance, illuminated it with its beauty. She was not a being with skin and bones in the dance, she was hair and ether and spineless grace. She let out small animal-like noises and twirled in slow-motion. The tune played her and she it. When is stopped she fell to the floor, broken.  
*

He picked her up and carried her to his wagon that was waiting. It had been easy to find her, easy to persuade a maid to put a sleeping potion in her ale. Easy to catch her as she fell.  
It would not be easy to keep her, he knew that much.

Roxana was found hanging from the ceiling in her chambers. A flower broken in its prime. Even in death her beauty was intact. No one could believe she’d take her life. No one knew her lover had taken it. He dressed in black and tore his hair, smeared his face with dirt. He was bereaved or so it would seem. No one knew of the secret he kept.

*

She awoke with a fierce headache. She blinked. The light from the window hit her straight in the face. She vaguely recalled falling, but that was at the tavern. Where was she now?  
It was a huge room, with a ceiling covered with paintings of angels. Now maybe one of her friends had taken her to their home, but she knew no one who lived like this. Joanna didn’t like the conclusion she came to. She tried to get up, but her legs would not obey her. She had no memory of drinking so much ale.  
“It will pass. It’s only a temporary paralysis” She twitched. She was not alone. The man she had seen at the inn was watching her. “Temporary” she slurred. “I put it in tour drink. It will not lead to permanent damage” he said. “Who the hell are you?” she asked.  
“I’m Gyrich, court sorcerer and you’re mine” “Oh. Is that so? I don’t recall being asked”  
“No need.” Joanna stared in disbelief. “You can’t just keep me here.”  
“Oh but I can. You can’t escape. I have guards outside.” He said.  
Joanna found that she still could not move. She was too angry to speak. Nothing in the cards had prepared her for this. She closed her eyes and tried to find access to her vision. It would not appear. I will find a way. She thought. Even if he’s as powerful as a god he could not control her. So, then cry for me sky. Rage for me for I am hidden from thine eyes. The sky opened and the rain fell for three days.  
*

The paralysis let go, but she was prisoner still. She refused to panic, to scream or have fits. I shall be calm she thought. I shall be mistress of my destiny still. She had tried to escape but the wall had been too strong. Gyrich treated her like a guest rather than a prisoner, but a prisoner she was. She had always come and gone as she pleased. She could not get used to the thoughts that she could not. She hated this strange man and all he stood for. She did not fear him. He clearly valued possessing her, he would not hurt her, a damaged thing loses some of its value.  
But he had to be fought. She looked at a painting of a lovely woman and wondered if she too had been captive. A bird deprived of its wings is no bird, but a soulless husk. Ah, but I shall fly again if it costs me my life. She thought. The woman smiled sadly. Her smile was but a frown upside down.  
*

At the court they noticed a change in Gyrich. He no longer seemed sad over Roxana’s death. He no longer told Elzim the truth. He’d even called the king young and beautiful. Elzim seemed pleased by the change in his sorcerer, but he was ill at ease. Gyrich no longer took part in the games played at court. He seemed content to watch. His appearance was less composed his eyes less watchful and his lingering scent of spices less penetrating.  
*

So Joanna dined with her captor. She had thought of starving herself, but it would do no good. So she ate the food set on the table. It was rich in taste, but she hardly felt it. It made her less hungry, that was all. “Permit me to go outside” she said with great difficulty, for she was not accustomed to ask for permission. “No. Then you’ll escape.” He replied sternly. She made a coarse sign instead of swearing and rose form the table. “Music then? Can you not make music?” “Alas, I am no musician” “You are a magician. Can you not produce sound somehow?” “No” She turned from him. She danced the dance she had danced at the tavern. She made it into one of rage, became as one with it. Her arms moved, they made circles of dust and heat. Her hair was no longer hair but fire. Her legs were liquid ropes of air. Her every vein contained fire, every muscle screamed rage. If only I could breathe it she thought.  
Gyrich watched her bright eyes clouded with rain. Such beauty can never be possessed. He knew as much, but he would try. He could paralyse her, trap her but never quench this fire.  
“Such a lovely sight,” he said. She stopped her dance.  
“To you maybe.” She breathed. “Now I feel better.”  
“Good. Perhaps I’ll let you walk outside tomorrow.”  
“You’ll let me. Oh indeed”  
“Yes. If you please me”  
“Ah no. I shall never.” She turned her back to him and watched the sun shining through the window. It bathed the sky in red. She saw its beauty could not fathom it. Her lover would see this somewhere she thought. But he could not touch it, she might.

So she made a pact with the sun. It ran strong in her family the witchblood. In her it meant being able to control the elements. If she figured out how to do it. Sun, she thought. Make me breathe fire. I am fire. Every beat of my heart pumps fire, very word I speak is a flame. My hair is the color of blood-fire let me be fire. So she sang a song she’d heard once. I think; I feel fire.  
So she twitched her frail body in tune. She twisted her hair around each syllable.  
*

He came home. He called her name. She came. She smiled. “I want you” he said.  
“So have me,” she said and out of her mouth came the fire, it consumed him. Burned him alive. He lay back and let it take him. “Have a taste,” she sang softly. Her song formed flames that burned him black. “None is master of me. I am life. I am fire. “ The wall came down.  
“You will not die. It will only hurt a little. But you shall always love what you can’t have” she said and left.

Gyrich no longer smelled spice, but burnt ember, lived a life of longing. He never told a lie. So he withdrew from the world.  
Joanna was free. She no longer told fortunes, she lived for the present. She danced. She had touched the sun and lived.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old work, but I thought it might be fun to post it here.


End file.
